


Haunted, In Every Way

by bamboozledbylife



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: As well as these fuckos can do that second part I guess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, really vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboozledbylife/pseuds/bamboozledbylife
Summary: "Do me a favor," he shoved Chrollo's shoulder, "don't fall asleep.""You're asking a lot of me." His response was heavily muffled against the blankets. "I make no promises.""That wasn't the favor.""Then you're definitely asking too much of me."Hisoka's always been better at ignoring than forgetting, but everything comes back around to haunt you eventually. He's also better at leaving than sharing, but some people refuse to be left.





	Haunted, In Every Way

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr bamboozledbylife

The soft whir of an off-kilter ceiling fan mingled with two sets of breath, cool breeze providing minimal relief from the humid summer air. The windows were thrown wide open and the sounds of night traffic echoed from far below. Hisoka sprawled on the bed, spread out as far as possible. Chrollo was curled next to him, avoiding skin-to-skin contact as best he could.

“Perhaps you should invest in air conditioning,” Chrollo murmured, voice barely audible.  
“It’d be a waste,” Hisoka pushed his damp bangs out of his face, “believe it or not, I don’t spend a lot of time here.”  
“I can’t imagine why.”  
“Chrollo.”  
A sleepy grunt answered him.  
“Do me a favor,” he shoved Chrollo’s shoulder, “don’t fall asleep.”  
After a few moments of non-response he pushed him again. Chrollo didn’t try to resist, rolling over onto his stomach.  
“You’re asking a lot of me,” his response was heavily muffled against the blankets, “I make no promises.”  
“That wasn’t the favor.”  
“Then you’re definitely asking too much of me.” Chrollo pushed himself onto his elbows, letting himself flop onto his other side so he was facing Hisoka. “Ask away.”  
“Say something strange.”  
“What?”

Chrollo opened his eyes, staring at Hisoka in disbelief. 

“What exactly does that mean, Hisoka?”  
“You know,” he cracked an eye open to look at Chrollo, “one of your weird philosophical musings. One of those things you say that nobody else thinks or cares about.”  
“Wow,” sarcasm rang with every word, “I really want to share now.”

Hisoka laughed, barking and low in his chest.

“Don’t take it too personally.”  
“I won’t,” Chrollo snuggled closer into the sheets, “lucky you. How weird?”  
“Something that keeps you up at night.”

Chrollo thought carefully, mulling over his options. The sound of a police siren rang through the apartment, louder from a distance than their conversation. Hisoka squinted at the faint moonlight streaming through the window, glaring at the audacity of the outside world. He shifted his attention to the clacking of the overhead fan, remembering countless plans to fix it.  
Every little sound grated on his nerves. The smothering heat ground away any shred of tolerance he had left. He wanted to ignore the extraneous details, but they maintained their steely grip. He clenched his jaw, swallowing heavily, frustration mounting.

“Is it worse to be consumed by lingering memories of a horrible past, or to be haunted by the specter of a future forever lost, and is there even a clear difference between the two?”  
“That’s… stupid.”  
“Are you suggesting you have answers?”  
“I’m suggesting that those answers aren’t worth finding.”  
“I guess someone who exclusively, ’lives in the moment’ would abhor every choice equally.”  
“Don’t start that.”  
“I’m not saying anything new.”  
“Then stop throwing it in my face,” Hisoka snapped, “you’re wasting your breath.”  
“I wasn’t.” Chrollo pushed himself up to a sitting position, habitual defensiveness beating out fatigue. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything next time, you’ll put the words in my mouth for me.”  
“You’ve only said the same thing a thousand-fucking-times now,” Hisoka sat up as well, refusing to give Chrollo any sort of high ground, “don’t act like it’s some ridiculous leap.”  
“If you didn’t want to talk to me, you could’ve let me go to sleep.”  
“I didn’t expect the holier-than-thou schtick.”  
“I wasn’t- what the hell is your problem? You’ve been like this all night.”  
“Been like what?” Hisoka crossed his arms, fingernails digging into forearm.  
“Irritable, touchy, confrontational, melodramatic,” Chrollo listed the words with his fingers, “need I go on?”  
“No one’s making you stay.”  
“Do you want me to leave?” 

The question was posed in a simple, genuine manner. There was no malice in it’s tone, no frustration, no trick. It hung in the air, clouding the space between them. There was no rush, Chrollo’s patience was saintly, he could wait all night. Hisoka hated that about him. Hated everything about him, right now.

To say yes would be a lie, keeping in character, at the very least. It would be easy, the perfect start to set this bridge ablaze. To say no, though. To be honest. It would imply want, which implies need. To say no was weak, exploitable. Enticing all the same.

He fixed his gaze to the foot of the bed. Chrollo wouldn’t be mad, which somehow was worse. He’d have that undecipherable look on his face, some odd combination of curiosity and apathy. The sort of look you’d expect a scientist to have while observing a lab rat.

“No,” Hisoka spat the word out like a curse, “I’d rather you didn’t.”  
“Quite the predicament, then.”  
“If you’re going to make it one.”  
“For your sake, I’m going to speed this conversation through the _arbitrarily making it my fault_ stage.”  
“Glad you’ve de-“  
“No,” Chrollo shook his head, “we’re done with that.”  
“Fine. Then tell me, _chauffeur,_ where are we going from here?”  
“That’s why I called it a predicament.” Chrollo let himself flop back down on the bed, staring at the shaky fan. “Because you don’t want me to leave, and you won’t talk to me, and you won’t be able to get any sleep.”  
“Who said I wasn’t going to talk to you?”  
“The consistent pattern of your previous behaviors.”  
“I live to defy consistency.” There was a tense curve to Hisoka’s lips, a smile plastered on from stress. “I think you, of all people, would know that.”  
“I eagerly await being proven wrong.”

Hisoka pulled his right leg close, linking his hands around his ankle. It was strange, to feel so out of control in a situation that hinged totally on his compliance. He was stuck between doing what Chrollo said, and doing what Chrollo wanted. 

“You suck.” Hisoka felt a twitch in his eyebrow and took a deep breath, forcing his face muscles to relax. “You really, really, suck.”  
“You’ll get over it.”  
“You seem pretty sure about that.”  
Chrollo hummed in answer, a short, smug sound. “You should lay down with me.”  
“I’m already sitting.”  
“And it makes you look stiff.”  
“Really?” Hisoka sighed in exasperation, eyebrows knitting. “Should I be concerned about appearances in my own home?”  
“I guess not, but I feel like you’d be more comfortable.”  
“Noted.” 

Chrollo grabbed at Hisoka’s shoulder, pulling him downwards. His hand was brushed off without a glance, falling lamely on the sheets. He tried again more forcefully. He got Hisoka’s steely gaze instead, his hand moved onto the bed once more.

“Stop.”  
“You wanted me to stay, and I stayed. Now listen, and lay down.”  
“Why should I listen to anything you have to say?”  
“Because you’re being impossible, and I’m trying to help.”

Chrollo put his hand on Hisoka’s arm, fingertips resting on his bicep. No pull this time, just a gentle suggestion. After a few moments he eased backwards, laying with his arms folded tightly across his chest. His foot bounced, the entire bed shaking with the movement.

“This doesn’t seem better.”  
“It will be, but this is the part where you have to talk to me.”  
“But you seem to be enjoying your own voice so much.”  
“Usually I’m the one saying that to you,” Chrollo scoffed, “more proof that something’s wrong.”  
“Nothing’s wrong.”  
“That’s the worst lie you’ve told me yet.”  
“I once told you my apartment was haunted.”  
“I almost believed that one.”  
“You still jump when the floorboards creak,” Hisoka snorted, “I wouldn’t call it almost.” 

“You wanted to hear something strange earlier, right?”  
“I-“ Hisoka paused, taken aback by the sudden change of pace- “yes.”  
“Do you want to hear a ghost story?” 

Hisoka looked at him questioningly, finally still. Chrollo wasn’t looking back at him, instead tracking the movement of the swaying fan. His head tilted back and forth, mirroring it’s movements. It was sweet- cute even. Hisoka didn’t comment, former irritation still lingering.

“Like a cliched, campfire ghost story?”  
“No, something that actually happened to me.”  
“I thought I was supposed to be talking to you right now.”  
“Well?”  
“Well, what?”  
“If you want to talk to me, then talk. The floor is yours.” Chrollo waited a few beats before continuing, “…and that’s what I thought. So, once when I was younger I wanted to see a haunted house. A real one, you know?”  
“I’m surprised you’ve never dragged me to one.”  
“That’s a good idea, but shush. This is my story.”  
“Of course.”  
“I was the farthest I’d ever been from Meteor City, in this little rural area. No electricity, well water, wagon trails, the works. Some old man was trying to scare me, and he told me about an abandoned mansion. Supposedly the family and the servants had been killed there 100 years ago, murdered by the father, who then killed himself. Classic.”  
“Pause,” Hisoka held his hand up, “tiny rural town, and a mansion?”  
“Colonization, you know.”  
“Uh… sure.”  
“Where was I? Oh, right. I go to this mansion in the dead of night. The front door was gone, ripped off the hinges. I was trying to be quiet, but the floorboards squeaked like crazy. Every step reverberated through the whole house.”  
“Sure makes you sound like a lousy thief.”  
“I wasn’t trying to steal anything.”  
“Now who’s a bad liar,” Hisoka teased, “you’re always stealing things. Especially back then.”  
“ _Possibly_ , if I had found something that caught my eye, I _might’ve_ stolen it.” A light flush colored Chrollo’s cheeks, “I’m not always stealing things.”  
“The only reason you’ve never stolen from me, is that I carry nothing worth stealing.”  
“That’s besides the point.” Chrollo reached out, dragging his fingers over Hisoka’s bare wrist. “Maybe you should start wearing a watch, or something.”  
“Why,” Hisoka cocked an eyebrow, “so you could try and take it from me?”  
“I wouldn’t be trying. The minute I saw it, it’d be good as gone.”  
“That almost sounds like a challenge,” Hisoka twisted his hand and caught Chrollo’s, “although in reality, it’s just the reason I can’t own nice things.”  
“As though anyone could control your actions.”

Chrollo pulled his arm back, but Hisoka’s grip stayed. He tugged a couple more times, to no avail. He pushed himself up, getting a better angle. As he brought his other hand around to work Hisoka’s fingers off his wrist, that hand was grabbed as well. One sharp yank and he was laying across Hisoka’s chest.

“You do have a point,” Hisoka kissed the top of his head, “you can’t control me.”  
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?”  
“Eh, tell me how it ends.”  
“There were some weird clunking noises that scared the shit out of me, and in the end it was a bunch of raccoons.”  
“Raccoons?”  
“A lot of raccoons. A hoard of them.”  
“A hoard?” Hisoka finally released Chrollo’s wrists, wrapping his arms around his waist instead. “How many is a hoard?”  
“Too many.”  
“That’s pretty vague,” a cheeky grin was plastered on Hisoka’s face, “I think any amount of raccoons is too many.”  
“What? There’s nothing wrong with them.” Hisoka laughed at his indignant expression, causing him to pout even more. “I’d say more than five is probably too many.”  
“Think about their weird, little human hands and tell me nothing’s wrong with them.”  
“They’d have to have opposable thumbs to have human hands.”  
“Thumbs or no, they still have fingers.”  
“So do lots of other animals.”  
“And there’s something wrong with all of them. I don’t think rodents should have gross, grabby, hands.”  
“One, raccoons aren’t rodents. Two, _you_ have gross, grabby, hands.”  
“And there’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” Hisoka ran a hand up Chrollo’s back, fingernails leaving five white lines in their wake. He inhaled sharply, arching away from the sensation. “You enjoy my grabby hands.”  
“I don’t enjoy their magnetic attraction to my ass.”  
“That’s their best quality.”  
“An entire repertoire of card tricks, and you consider groping their best use?”  
“Maybe if my occupation was ‘cheap party clown,’ I may feel otherwise.”  
“You think too highly of clowns,” Chrollo scrunched his nose up in disgust.

This comment prompted another laugh from Hisoka. He rested his hand on Chrollo’s cheek, enjoying the smooth texture under his palm.

“This conversation got really derailed.”  
“I think that was my fault.” Chrollo rolled off of Hisoka, sighing when he hit the now cool sheets. “It’s too hot to be laying like that.”  
“You grew up in a desert, how is this too hot for you?”  
“It doesn’t get humid in a- wait, no. We’re getting off topic again.”  
“Between the two of us, it’s amazing we’re ever on topic.”  
“Can’t argue that one,” Chrollo hummed thoughtfully, “but we should talk about earlier.”  
“About the raccoons?”  
“You wish. Why were you so upset earlier?”  
“Global warming.”  
“Try again.”  
“Our planet’s dying, Chrollo. Am I not allowed to be concerned?”  
“If you don’t want to talk, just tell me. I’d be more than happy to go to sleep.”  
“You and I both know I won’t do that.”  
“I could start taking random guesses. Stop me when I get it. How about your-“  
“You don’t need to do that,” Hisoka interrupted him, “I’ll tell you.”  
“Okay.”

Hisoka shifted a little, prior tenseness returning. He took a few deep breathes, slow and purposeful, punctuating the lull.

“Remember the question you asked me earlier? Vague past something, something or future that can’t happen?”  
“I said… something to that effect, yes.”  
“It’s the first one.”  
“I figured,” Chrollo shrugged, an awkward gesture with his back against the sheets. “Was that what was bothering you?”  
“No, I decided to bring it up for a completely unrelated reason.”  
“My bad.”

The atmosphere soured quickly as a familiar awkwardness settled over them. Hisoka, trying to tell if Chrollo knew he was joking. Chrollo, unsure of who should speak next. Neither talking, both confused.

“So,” Chrollo broke their silence, “was that it?”  
“Was I supposed to spill my guts to you? Is this the part where I trade my tragic past for your pity?”  
“Is that what you wanted it to be?”  
“No.”  
“Then what’s the problem?”  
“You, expecting more.”  
“I was asking for clarification, nothing else. If you’d like to volunteer more, I wouldn’t stop you.”  
“Why ever would I want to tell you more?”  
“We aren’t so different, you and I. If anyone could understand, it’d probably be me.”  
“Hm,” he hesitated, “possibly. Tell me, Chrollo, do you remember your parents at all?”  
“Not really. I could describe how my mom looked, a little.”  
“Then I’m afraid, on this point, we’re simply too different.”  
“Are you upset because you miss them?”  
“I thought I told you not to guess.”  
“What were they like?”  
“That’s for me to forget.”  
“So you don’t miss them, then?”  
“Never have.” Hisoka turned over, moving to face away from Chrollo. “Anyone ever told you you’re nosy?”  
“Only everyone I’ve ever met. Is this your way of telling me the conversation’s over?”  
“The conversation about me is over.” Hisoka mumbled, “feel free to wildly change the subject again.”  
“Your permission is appreciated, but I was about to do it anyways. Do you usually sleep with the windows open?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Isn’t that unsafe?”  
“Anyone who can climb to the 10th floor is welcome to break in.”  
“I guess a window lock wouldn’t stop them, anyways.”  
“Mhm.”  
“You don’t get sick a lot, do you?”  
“No,” the single syllable was stained with sleepiness.  
“I guess I knew that, I’m around you enough. Probably just a myth.”

The silence came more naturally this time, brought instead by the promise of rest. Hisoka felt his consciousness slipping, sleep threatening. Chrollo's breath besides him was too active, too aware. It had always bugged him, falling asleep next to someone awake. Tonight was no exception. That same, burning, itch that always came appeared, forcing his eyes open.

“Chrollo, go to sleep.”  
“Sorry,” although the word lacked any semblance of remorse, “I'm thinking now.”  
“About?” His reply came out muffled against the pillow, inaudible. “I didn't hear that.”  
Chrollo lifted his head, eyes bleary. “I said: raccoon ghosts.”

Certain ridiculous topics become hilarious very early in the morning. This was one of them. The laughter was slow, bogged down by fatigue. Hisoka pressed a kiss to Chrollo’s forehead, chest still shaking with laughter.

“Forget about the supernatural pests. Sweet dreams.”  
“I'll just have to count zombie sheep, then.”  
“Whatever helps you sleep, so long as you do.”

Chrollo let his face flop back down into the pillows, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He was sound asleep in no time at all, lost in peaceful slumber. It was something Hisoka had always envied. Chrollo possessed the inhuman ability to fall asleep anywhere, at anytime. A liability, almost.  
He examined the placid calm on the other mans face, not so unlike the mask he wore daily. It was an easy detour from the torrential flooding of his mind. Memories came unbidden, each more unwelcome than the last. So instead, he committed Chrollo's face to memory; analyzing each feature with precision.  
If his sanity demanded a distraction, Chrollo was a pleasant one. His jet black hair, mussed and unruly. The intricate tattoo mostly hidden from sight. The gentle slope of his eyebrows, framing eyes delicately shut. Eyelashes, long and dark, granting the illusion of liner. High cheekbones, divine in their dimensions. 

Hisoka didn't have the time to consider the rest of his face, his own eyelids grown heavy. He felt himself drift off, no impulse to fight it this time. The image of Chrollo stayed behind his eyes, a marvelous afterimage. Calm seemed right on Chrollo, made it feel right on Hisoka. It wasn't, but every extra hour of sleep made it worth it.  
Without further hesitation he embraced the void. The welcoming static, like his brain wasn't tuned right. Crazy, to call Chrollo someone worth going to sleep for. Even crazier, for that to be a compliment.


End file.
